


these things take backbone

by foggys_cupcake_girl



Series: Kinktober 2020 [16]
Category: Justice League (2017)
Genre: (partially clothed anyway), Chair Sex, Clothed Sex, Formalwear, I'm too tired to tag this thing, Kinktober, M/M, Mild Daddy Kink, Riding, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Sneaking Around, day 16 of Kinktober and no damns left to give, it's literally the Penguin and Flash boning in Wayne Manor, what more do y'all want from me lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27046429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggys_cupcake_girl/pseuds/foggys_cupcake_girl
Summary: Barry Allen isn't sure if he's dating the Penguin or just sleeping with him...but he does know the man looks absolutely delicious in a tux, and that's all he really needs to know. The ethics and morals of nailing a supervillain behind the Justice Leagues' backs, well...he'll deal with that later.DAY 16 of KinktoberWritten for prompts: Licking | Formalwear |Medical play|Sex demon
Relationships: Barry Allen/Oswald Cobblepot
Series: Kinktober 2020 [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950283
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	these things take backbone

Barry Allen does not like wearing formal suits, so it’s with great reluctance that agrees to do recon at a black tie affair at Bruce Wayne’s manor. “Just in case things go south,” Bruce explains as he stuffs Barry into a tux. “I’m trying to nail some very prominent members of the criminal underworld tonight. I’ll need you there to help me apprehend them. Carmine Falcone is the big one. But I’ll settle for Oswald Cobblepot if I can get him to slip up.”

_Oh. Fuck._

Barry has had some time to come to terms with the fact that he is sleeping with the Penguin (which may be somewhat unfair given that the Penguin doesn’t know that he’s sleeping with the Flash). But. Well. Here he is now at a very fancy, very boring party, with Os standing there looking absolutely lickable in that tux, his usually-tousled gray hair slicked down and his moustache neatly trimmed, so handsome it _hurts._ And he’s expected to…what, to _detain_ that man, if Bruce should order him to? Not likely. Detain him in the bedroom, more like.

A formal gala is hardly the time to pop a boner, so Barry has to quickly derail that train of thought and focus on the bigger target: Carmine Falcone. Yeah. No way is he going to talk to that motherfucker. Bruce has instructed him _not_ to talk to any of the “big ticket” criminals, just speed over and stop them if need be. So he waits, and watches, and—

“Really? Eyeing up Falcone when I’m right here? I’m insulted, baby.”

Barry jumps about ten feet and turns to see his devastatingly handsome…oh God, what should he call the man? Boyfriend? It seems so trite compared to what they are, and he doesn’t really think it _fits,_ anyway. Boyfriend implies one who takes you to movies and sends you flowers after a fight, not someone who you fuck in their penthouse at four AM after lying to your vigilante boss about going home to recover from a fight.

No. Boyfriend is not the right word. _Crack pipe,_ more like. Os is, as much of a cliche as it is to say it, like a drug to Barry, an addiction that feels so terrifyingly good he never wants to even try to quit. No one has ever made Barry feel like this before—like he’s driving a car without brakes, with someone blowing him from the passenger seat while he’s trying to dodge speedbumps.

“I’m just people-watching,” he says primly, and Os laughs. Barry sweats. He can see Diana out of the corner of his eye, can feel her eyes on them. He’s not supposed to be talking to “the criminals.” Is he going to get in trouble if “the criminal” is talking to him?

“Oh, I think people are watching _you_ in that suit. Jesus. Where does a kid like you get a thing like that? Makes that cute ass of yours look like a million bucks.”

Barry knows his face is turning red, but he forces himself to keep his voice cool and light as he replies, feeling Diana’s eyes on him the whole time, “That’s a little inappropriate, don’t you think, sir?”

This time Os throws his head back when he laughs, and Barry’s heart picks up just a little. “Don’t you know who I am, kid? I’ll tell you something, if I wanted to,” he says in a voice that carries nicely to people around them, “I could have my guys make some calls, buy out your contract, have you delivered to my place, and do whatever the hell struck my fancy. What do you think of that?”

“I think I should tell my boss on you,” Barry replies, feeling his heart flutter for more reasons than just nerves. He can still feel Diana watching them, but at the same time…the intense way that Os is looking at him makes his knees weak. “I think he’ll make you leave if he finds out you’ve been hitting on me.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I don’t think he’ll do any such thing. Doubt he’d even notice you’re missing.” Os scowls a little, his voice dropping into a dark murmur on the last few words. Then he leans in and whispers in Barry’s ear, “There’s a library two floors down, third door on the left. Meet me there in twenty minutes.” He backs up, says more loudly, “And do me a favor, kid. Next time you show up at a party looking like that, at least have the decency to be a stripper.”

He walks away while Barry lets out an indignant sputter. Moments later, Diana is at his side, a gentle hand on his arm. “Did he frighten you?” she asks him, and he shakes his head. “What did he whisper in your ear?”

“Nothing I’d feel comfortable repeating in mixed company,” Barry says honestly, and Diana makes a face. “Really, it’s nothing,” he quickly assures her. “The guys at work say worse stuff to the interns. I’m fine. A little weirded out, but fine.”

_If ever there was an understatement._

~

Barry’s had three glasses of champagne and scarfed down about half a dozen fancy mozzarella cheese things by the time the clock strikes eleven. He shakes Diana by telling her he has to go to the bathroom (which is also technically true, because he doubts Os will just get down to business with him in the library where anyone can walk in, but…maybe, you never know with Os) and makes it to the library, thankfully, without anyone seeing.

Os is there waiting for him, sitting in a velvet armchair that probably costs more than a year of rent (if, you know, Barry actually paid for his warehouse), nursing a glass of something that looks almost as expensive as the chair. He grins when he sees Barry and casually finishes off his drink. “Come. Sit. Or maybe the other way around,” he smirks as he sets the glass aside.

Barry can’t hold back a childish giggle as he does just that, settling himself in Os’ lap like an overeager kitty. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Os wraps both arms firmly around Barry’s waist and holds him close. Barry, naturally, absolutely loves it. “So. As much as I’d like to get some in Wayne’s tacky-ass mansion, we gotta talk first. We may have a problem.”

“Are you dumping me?” Barry asks, with no real fear in his voice, as he snuggles up to Os and tucks his head into the man’s warm neck. “Because this sounds an awful lot like the leadup to ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’”

Os chuckles and gives him a kiss on the forehead. It’s surprisingly sweet. Very, dare Barry say it, boyfriend-like. “No, sweetheart. Far more serious than that, I’m afraid. Here’s the thing…rumor has it the Flash is here.”

Barry is suddenly glad his face is buried in Os’ neck. “Oh?” he says, fighting to keep his voice neutral.

“If the Flash is in Gotham, he’s here because Bruce Wayne asked him to be. He’s from your neck of the woods, yeah? No reason for him to be here without an invitation. And if Wayne invited one masked vigilante, well. ’S not too much of a stretch he’d invite others, if you get my drift.”

“Oh,” Barry says again, not liking where this is going.

“Yeah. So. Not to put too fine a point on it, kid, but I may have walked straight into a trap tonight,” Os says, far too casually for someone who may end up sharing a cell with the Scarecrow by morning. “Now, if shit goes down—and if your friend Batman is involved, trust me, shit _will_ go down—I want you to promise me that you’ll get the hell outta here and not look back. I don’t care what you’re doing here, but whatever it is, it’s not worth your life.”

“Wait, I don’t understand—”

“Barry, I’m not an idiot,” Os says patiently. “You’re mixed up in something with Batsy and Wayne, I know it…you’re a Central City college kid, not a trust fund baby. Batman’s got you doing something here, and honestly, I’d like to know what he’s promised you, or what he has on you. You’re in danger. You know that, right?”

Oh. _Oh._ He hasn’t put it together that Barry’s the Flash, then. He thinks Bruce is bribing him, or blackmailing him. Which is…not exactly true. Barry could walk away from the JL any time he likes. At least, he thinks so. “I can’t talk about it,” he finally settles on. “I’m sorry, I—it’s not that I don’t trust you, I just—”

“—don’t want to spend your senior year in Arkham, which is exactly what will happen if Batsy finds out you turned on him. I understand,” Os says soothingly. “Sweetheart, I promise you, if he lays a hand on you I’ll make him regret it.”

“It’s not like—”

“If it’s money,” Os cuts him off, “I can help with that. Is he paying your rent? Did he get you a job? Or…seriously, does he have something on you? Is he threatening you? Because if he is, I’ll gladly protect you from whatever he’s holding over your head. Just say the word, kid. I’ve got your back.”

Barry feels like the champagne’s just hit him all at once. Because this is…not something he saw coming. He thought the promise to help him get his dad out of Iron Heights was a one-time thing, that their relationship was just sex, but…but it sounds like Os _cares._ The big, bad, scary, sexy Penguin actually…likes him. Cares about him. Oh. Oh _God,_ Barry thought he was just fucking the Penguin behind the JL’s back, but…but it’s worse. He’s _dating_ the Penguin. He may well be _falling in love_ with the Penguin.

Well. Shit.

“Barry? You with me? You look like I just whacked you over the head.”

 _I think you did._ Barry forces himself to look Os in the eyes and, for once, cuts right to the chase instead of talking in circles. “I want you. I want to fuck you, right now. Or you can fuck me for a change, if you want. I don’t care. We can do it however you want, I just—I just feel like I need you. _Now.”_

Os looks surprised, and his hold on Barry changes, shifts, somehow tightens and becomes gentle at the same time. “Is this your way of saying you don’t want to talk about it?”

“No. I’ll always talk, you know that.” He peels himself away from Os and stands up so as to better get out of his suit coat. “But I don’t want to think about Bruce Wayne or Batman or any of them right now. I—” God, this is a huge leap. But he knows, some _thing_ inside him is screaming it, that this is what he has to do.

Os stands up, takes hold of his waist and looks deep into his eyes. “What it is, sweetheart? You can tell me,” he says, and the way he looks at Barry—he _knows._

“I think I’m in love with you,” Barry says in a rush, “and if—if some asshole tries to arrest you tonight I’m not going to just stand by and let them, and I don’t want any bullshit from you about how it’s too dangerous or you’re not worth it, because—fuck that, okay? Trust me, I’m not as fragile as I look. No. Don’t argue. I don’t want to hear it, I’ve made up my mind. Now either turn around so I can fuck you over the chair, or sit back down so I can ride you. You choose.”

Os stares at him for a good long moment, his eyes sweeping up and down like he’s trying to decide where to start. And then, with a nod that just screams _fuck it,_ he shoves Barry down into the armchair and absolutely fucking _devours_ him. Barry gives in to the kiss with a groan, his eyes fluttering shut as he loses himself to the feeling of Os’ strong, warm hands undoing his belt, sliding up under his shirt, tugging at the buttons of his pants.

“I want every part of you,” he breathes against the shell of Barry’s ear, making him shiver. “Did you think I just wanted a little piece of ass when I was in town, kid? Is that what you were thinking? My God, why didn’t you say something?”

“Do you—are you saying—”

“I’m saying I will do absolutely fucking _anything_ for you, baby. That’s what I’m saying.” 

“Then kiss me again,” Barry says, and Os obliges, twisting his hands into Barry’s long hair (his hair tie is _gone,_ he doesn’t know where or how and he doesn’t care) and plunging his tongue deep into his mouth. Barry can feel his eyes rolling back, his cock hardening in his slacks, sweat beading on the back of his neck. He wants, oh God, his skin is on fire with how badly he wants Os _now._

“Need you, daddy,” he pants when Os pulls back for air, reaching out and fumbling until the man’s belt is gone and his pants are unzipped. “Need to fuck you. Now.”

“Anything for you.” Os steps back just long enough to yank off his jacket, pull something from his pants pocket, and push off both his pants and briefs in one motion. He crawls back into the armchair so that he’s straddling Barry’s lap. _“Ungh._ God, you’re huge. Where’d you keep that monster in those pants, huh?”

“It’s not a monster,” Barry snorts. “You’re just flattering me now.”

“Oh, sweetheart. Trust me, that dick of yours? Stuff of dreams. Now…” He leans in and licks a sloppy wet stripe up Barry’s neck. “Ahh. Love it when you get all sweaty. Makes you smell good.” He flicks his tongue over the shell of Barry’s ear, nibbles his earlobe and the sensitive little spot just behind his ear. “Mmm. I could just taste you all night, kid. You’re so good, you know that?”

“Not that good,” Barry manages between gasps, Os now nibbling down his neck and undoing his tie and the top buttons of his shirt so as to lick at his collarbones. “I’m— _ooh_ —letting the big bad Penguin into my bed, aren’t I?”

“Mmm. Making the big bad Penguin your willing slave, more like,” Os teases, turning his attention to the other side of Barry’s neck. He takes a moment to suck a hickey into his skin before saying, “What was it, the line from that old David Bowie movie, about goblins in tight pants or whatever—‘fear me, love me, do as I say and I’ll be your slave?’”

Barry laughs deliriously as Os’ teeth sink into his shoulder. “Oh _God._ I don’t think that means what you think it does.”

“Baby, you own me.” Os pulls back, flicks open the little bottle he pulled out of his pocket a minute ago _(did the man bring lube to a party, seriously?)_ and slicks up two fingers. Barry watches, entranced, as he reaches around behind himself and does something that makes his face briefly clench and then go slack. “Mmm. Feels good. Gonna feel even better when it’s your cock.”

Barry can’t help but let out a little moan at the sight. He loves sleeping with this man, _craves_ it when they aren’t together. No one’s ever let him top before, never even offered him the chance, but Os—God, Os _begs_ for it sometimes, pulls Barry on top of him as he’s falling into bed, gasping _please, baby, split me open, own me sweetheart, fuck me til I can’t breathe._

Os may talk a big game about protecting him, but he’s never once treated him like a fragile little twink princess. And for that, Barry is truly, eternally grateful.

Now, with a low, throaty groan, he sinks down onto Barry’s cock and grips his shoulders tight, taking his time lowering himself down inch by inch, making them both shake with need from the slow burn. “Oh God,” he groans, letting his head fall back. “Sweetheart, your cock is fucking magic.”

“That’s—ooh—that’s so _cheesy,”_ Barry gasps, shuddering as he bottoms out.

“Feel good, baby?” Os rolls his hips, slow and deliberate, and they both shiver and moan. “Oh, yeah. Oh, that’s it. God, I love feeling you in me.”

“I love—I love being in you—” And Barry can’t stop himself from gripping Os far too tightly, probably leaving bruises on the man’s pale skin, and snapping his hips up, thrusting deep into him. Os lets out a broken moan and lets his head fall into the crook of Barry’s neck, and a rush of exhilarated pleasure sweeps through Barry. “Yeah,” he pants, snapping up deep into Os again and watching in delight as his lover’s eyes roll back. “Yeah, take it, Daddy.” He loves this, _loves_ it, loves taking this strong, sexy, incredibly powerful man apart until he’s a gasping, trembling, pleasure-drunk mess.

“Oh—oh God, that’s it sweetheart, just like that,” he pants as Barry thrusts up into him again, and begins to ride him in earnest, meeting Barry on every downstroke, yielding to it easily and taking him impossibly deeper with each sudden thrust. “Oh _God._ Fuck, kid, you’re gonna make me come.” 

“That’s the idea,” Barry agrees breathlessly, unable to stop a pitchy whine from spilling out as their pace quickens. “Oh. Jesus, that’s good.” He moves faster, as fast as he can with Os’ considerable weight on him, and he has to fight to not use his speed powers to make himself vibrate. (He knows it would drive Os crazy, and almost blurts out he’s the Flash right then and there just so he can do it—but no. Even caught up like this he still has to respect the boundaries they agreed on.)

But even without vibrations Os is on the verge of losing it; he’s still bouncing on Barry’s lap but it’s becoming erratic, his legs are trembling and he can’t keep it up much longer, and Barry obligingly reaches down between them to stroke the man’s swollen, weeping cock. “Fuck, kid,” Os groans as Barry lovingly swirls his palm across the slick head. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me— _ahhh—”_

He comes, long and hard, with a drawn-out groan that goes straight to Barry’s cock, and it only takes a few more quick thrusts into that clenching heat before Barry comes too, stifling his cries of pleasure in the collar of Os’ half-buttoned waistcoat. His orgasm is so strong it’s a little disorienting, and when his head clears it sinks in just what they’ve just done, what they’ve just _said._

Os holds onto him tightly, one hand combing gently through his hair. “Shit,” he breathes, sounding as shaky as Barry feels. “You okay, sweetheart?”

And, well, _yeah,_ Barry’s fine, physically speaking; he’s got literal lightning in his blood vessels, it’s not like a little bit of intense sex is going to send him to the hospital. But his heart is racing and he still feels a little dizzy and he knows it has nothing to do with how hard he just came. 

He presses his face into Os’ chest again for a moment, steadying himself, and then he pulls away and says matter-of-factly, “We need to clean up. Someone could walk in any second.”

“I know,” Os grins. “And won’t they be jealous, knowing I’m the only one who gets to ride that delicious cock of yours?”

Barry rolls his eyes and swats his boyfriend’s _(boyfriend!!!)_ ass. “Get off me, you beast. We have to get dressed.”

“Technically,” Os says, plucking at the collar of Barry’s shirt, “we _are_ dressed.”

“I mean dressed enough to go back out in public _without_ alerting the entire Justice League and all of Bruce Wayne’s trust-fund douche friends that you’re fucking Batman’s…assistant.”

If Os notices the catch in Barry’s voice before the word _assistant,_ he doesn’t say anything. Just rolls his eyes and says with a dramatic sigh, “Oh, spoil my fun, why don’t you.”

“Oh, take me to your penthouse tonight, daddy…I’ll show you _fun.”_

Os chuckles softly as he leans in and gives Barry one last kiss before they have to get up. “I’m counting on it, baby. I’m counting on it.”


End file.
